As usual, nothing got through his thick skull. He rubbed his hands together and slipped into the room. “What am I ever doing? I’m after a story. Two murders in the city and nothing from the SFPD. You know, if your brother was here, Brody, he’d give me the goods. He always gives me something.”
Eric folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, still keeping the door wide-open. Just in case he wanted to throw Ray out?
“I guess I forgot to tell him you were ferreting around trying to get the dirt on our family.”
Ray stroked his goatee. “Just the truth, man. It’s still a fascinating story after all these years. I’m not the only one looking for a new angle on the story. There’s a reporter up in Seattle who just hit the bestseller lists with one true crime book, and she has her eye on the Joey Brody story for her second.”
Christina grabbed Ray’s arm. “I’m sure you didn’t track me down to discuss the ancient Brody case.”
“I tracked you down because I heard you were working these two murders—Nora Sterling and Liz Fielding.”
“I am.” She took a step toward Eric still glowering by the door. “We are.”
“That’s a little,” he remarked as his gaze darted toward Eric, “awkward.”
Eric pushed out a noisy breath of air. “We’re all adults here, Lopez. Have you heard anything on the street about the murders?”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours first.”
Christina jabbed her finger into Ray’s ribs.
He gasped. “Metaphorically speaking, of course. I’m just wondering why two FBI agents are out here for a serial killer.”
“Well, duh. We have a serial killer division.” Christina tipped her chin toward Eric to close the door, and he let it slam.
“I know that, but usually you guys get involved when the murderer crosses state lines. Have there been other murders? Similar murders elsewhere?”
“I guess we’re not going to see yours, Lopez, because there’s no way we’re giving up that information to a reporter.” Eric practically spit out the last word.
“The press serves a valuable purpose, Brody.” Ray folded his hands over his slightly paunchy stomach and raised his eyes to the ceiling.
“Prove it. What are you hearing on the street?”
Ray looked both ways and cupped a hand around his mouth. “That Liz and especially Nora were into some weird stuff.”
Christina’s pulse jumped. “Like what?”
“Voodoo, hocus-pocus stuff.” He waved his hands in the air. “Séances, Ouija boards, conjuring spirits. Kinda reminds me of your old man, Christina.”
Eric narrowed his eyes. “Maybe they conjured the wrong spirits.”
Ray made a gun with his fingers and pointed at Eric. “Are the cops working this angle yet? Are you?”
“You know we can’t reveal anything like that.”
Ray jerked his thumb at Eric. “Have you explained how quid pro quo works, Christina? Hell, even your brother knows how it works.”
“My brother is a homicide detective with the SFPD. He needs people like you.” Eric brushed his hands together. “We don’t.”
“Aww, I’m all broken up. Didn’t I just give you a choice morsel of info?”
“It ain’t that choice, Lopez.”
Ray wagged his finger. “Ahh, you just gave me a hint, Agent Brody. The cops are working this angle. You already know about the witchy ways of Nora and Liz.”
Christina shoved her hands in her back pockets. “Is that all you came here for, Ray? To find out what we know about the murders?”
“That,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders and planting a kiss on her cheek, “and to say hello to an old friend. You look great, by the way.”
“Thanks, Ray. You look good, too.”
“Just remember to throw me a few scraps now and then. I’m not asking for anything confidential, but if you’ve got something you’re going to release to the press anyway, think of me first.”
Eric dug into his pocket and handed a card to Ray. “And if you hear anything, let us know.”
Ray pressed the card to his heart. “We’ve come a long way, Brody.”
Christina’s brows shot up. Eric had taken this forgiveness thing to a whole new level.
Ray seemed to want to quit while he was ahead because he practically ran for the door. “Say hello to your mom for me out there in Nowhereville.”
“Will do.” She shut the door and turned slowly. “That went...well.”
“I still don’t appreciate that he was working on you to use me to get to my family’s story, but I guess I understand him better.”
“I know he’s kind of a jackass, but he’s just trying to make a name for himself.”
“What does that have to do with pretending to have a relationship with you? He even hinted marriage.”
“He’s always had a little crush on me.” She held up her fingers about an inch apart. “The two of us were over by then anyway. He’s not a bad guy. He’s helping his mom send his younger sister through school.”
“Okay, enough of the sob story. If he can give us anything, I don’t have a problem reciprocating with a little advance information.”
The knots that had been twisting in her gut since the moment she saw Ray through the peephole began to loosen. She liked this retro Eric Brody. This was the man she’d first met and fallen in love with. The man who’d existed before he’d started working child abductions.
What psychiatrist had told him that was a good idea? Instead of resolving the issues from his own kidnapping, the assignment had twisted his insides. And when his team had lost the child on that last case, he’d come unraveled.
How would he feel now to know he had a child of his own?
“Earth to Christina.” He snapped his fingers in front of her nose. “Let’s finish looking over the files from the other two cases and then get some lunch.”
“As long as I can stretch out on the bed while doing it—looking at the files, I mean.”
“Nobody told you to sit on the floor.”
“Believe it or not, the floor is more comfortable than sitting at a desk. You’re not the only one who gets tight muscles and backaches.”
He reached for one of the files and tossed it onto the bed. “Stretch away. I’ll go through the Juarez case.”
Christina fluffed up the pillows against the headboard and sank against them. She flipped open the file on her lap and started with the lab report on the victim, Olivia Dearing.
For the next half hour, the silence of the room was broken only by the rustling of pages and a few clicks as Eric typed on the laptop.
Then Eric whistled. “Hello.”
“Find something?”
“A few days before Victor Juarez was murdered he had a tattoo removed.”
“Yeah? So what?” She swept the papers from her lap and rolled onto her stomach.
He held up a photo and waved it. “There’s a picture of his left shoulder where the tattoo was removed. It’s round.”
“What are you saying? He had a tattoo of our symbol removed?”
“Maybe.” He rose from his chair and tossed the photo onto the bed. “Have a look?”
She squinted at the reddened flesh on the dead man’s skin. “It could’ve been any circular tattoo.”
“Could’ve also been that coven symbol.”
She picked up the photo, swinging it by one corner. “Anything in that report about what kind of tattoo it was?”
“Nope, but the name of the tattoo removal place is in here. I’m going to give them a call and see if they can remember what they removed from Mr. Juarez’s shoulder. Did you find anything?”
“Not yet.”
“There may be nothing in the file at all, but I�
��m willing to bet the connection has to be there.” He returned to the desk and shuffled through the papers in the file. “Got it. He went to a dermatologist.”
He reached for his phone, and Christina jabbed her finger in the air. “Speaker.”
The phone rang on the other end and a woman answered. “Westpoint Dermatology.”
“This is Agent Eric Brody with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m wondering if you can help me with some information about a recent patient of yours, Victor Juarez.”
The woman hissed. “The guy who was murdered last month.”
“Exactly. Did the police already talk to you?”
“Yes. They called to verify that we were the ones who removed Mr. Juarez’s tattoo.”
“Did they ask you what kind of tattoo it was?”
“They just wanted to know if it was a gang tattoo, which it wasn’t.”
Eric slid a piece of hotel stationery toward him. “Do you remember what it was or do you have a record of what it was?”
“I wouldn’t remember. I never saw it. I’m not even sure I was here when Mr. Juarez came in for his removal. When news of his murder hit the airwaves, another girl told me he’d been in here.”
“Can I talk to the doctor who removed it, or do you have the tattoo on file?”
“Oh, yeah. We always keep a before and after picture. I can look it up for you, but not right this minute, and I’ll also need some verification from you that you’re really from the FBI.”
“Understood. I’ll give you the number for the FBI, my ID number and also my email address so you can email me the picture of the tattoo when you get it.”
“That’ll work.”
Eric rattled off the information and ended the call. “I think we’re onto something.”
“I can’t find anything on this victim that points to witchcraft.” Christina shoved the case file off her lap.
“It’s there somewhere.” He clasped the back of his neck, tilting his head from side to side. “I need a break. Lunch?”
“Let’s get out of here. It’s almost worse than working in an office. It’s so claustrophobic and there are no coworkers to make fun of.”
“Remind me never to turn my back on you in the office.”
Her phone buzzed and one glance at it caused a rush of adrenaline to course through her body. “Ah, this is a private call.”
His brows shot to his hairline. Then he backed up toward his room. “Go ahead. I’m going to make a few calls myself.”
He shut the door behind him with a decisive click, and she let out a breath and collapsed against the fluffed-up pillows. “Hi, Mom. How’s everything going?”
“Kendall is doing fine, but she misses her mommy.”
Christina put a hand over her heart where the hole just got bigger. “Can you put her on the phone?”
“Of course. She’s helping me pack up a lunch for our picnic at the park. I’m meeting that nice, young mother down the street and her daughter. I think she’s a stay-at-home mom.”
Christina gritted her teeth and ignored the jab. “Great. Kendall and Serena play really well together.”
“Here she is. Say hi to Mommy, Kendall.”
“Hi, Mommy.” Her daughter’s sweet voice filled the hole in her heart with love.
“Hi, girly-girl. Are you going to play with Serena today?”
“In the sand.”
“Are you going to build castles in the sandbox?”
“Princess castles.”
“Those are the best kind.” When she’d been a girl, she’d spent time building sand castles and then punching holes in them. Kendall clearly had not inherited her mother’s tomboy ways.
Kendall went on to tell her about her lunch and the kitten next door, and a few other things Christina couldn’t quite figure out, but she loved listening to her daughter chatter away anyway.
Then the words abruptly stopped and her mom got back on the phone. “Quite the chatterbox today.”
“I didn’t get a chance to tell her I love her. Can you put the phone back to her ear?”
After some rustling noises, Christina said, “Love you, girly-girl. See you soon.”
“When are you coming home, Christina? Chasing serial killers around the country is no job for a woman with a young child, especially when that child doesn’t have a father.”
The guilt twisted her insides. Nobody could do guilt better than her mother—especially when she was right.
“He’s here.”
“What?”
Christina lowered her voice. “Eric. He’s on the same case and he’s here with me.”
“Perfect. Now you can tell him he’s a father.”
“It’s not that easy, Mom.”
“It’s not easy because you’ve been sitting on this bombshell for over two years.”
“You know why I did that.”
“Because he was mad at you?”
“It was more than that. He was in a dark place when he lost that kidnapped child, and he’d already told me he didn’t want kids of his own. I had agreed to that, so when I got pregnant it would’ve looked like a trap after he dumped me.”
“So what? If he’s any kind of man, he’ll get over it when you tell him he has a daughter.”
“He’ll hate me for keeping it from him.”
“As he should. So that’s why you’re not telling him now? You think it’s going to mess up the little kissy-face game you have going on now? You’re selfish, Christina.”
Anger pounded hot against her temples, and a retort burned on her lips. Then she closed her eyes and dragged in a breath through her nose. “You’re right. I need to tell him. I will tell him.”
“A man like Eric Brody will never walk away from his responsibilities. He may walk away from you, but never his daughter. He’s not like your father.”
Christina’s eyes flew open. “Speaking of Dad, have you heard from him or Vivi lately?”
“Funny you should ask. Vivi was just out here.”
“What? When?” Christina bunched the bedspread in her fist.
“A few weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I forgot. That girl is loopy, and she has loopy friends. She had some guy with black fingernails in tow. I’m not sure she should be around Kendall without supervision.”
Christina nibbled on the end of her own fingernail. Vivi must’ve still been traveling with Darius Cole. “Did she come to see me?”
“No, she knew you weren’t here. She dropped by to see Kendall.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
Her mother expelled a long-suffering sigh. “We didn’t talk that much, Christina. I offered her lunch, but she said she was in a big hurry. She played with Kendall for a while and took off. She is Kendall’s aunt. I’m not going to deny a family member—even a loony one.”
“And I don’t want you to.” Vivi never would’ve attempted to test Kendall’s supposed powers with Mom hovering nearby. “I’m just wondering if she said anything about where she was headed.”
“Not to me, although the guy with the eyeliner mentioned something about the city. Is the cross-examination done now? We’ve got a playdate to get to.”
“Have fun and give Kendall lots of kisses from me.”
Christina scooted off the bed and paced by the window. Why would Vivi stop in to see Kendall on her way into hiding? San Miguel could’ve been on her way, but then she made a detour back to San Francisco.
Eric knocked on the door.
She laced her fingers behind her back. “Come on in.”
He poked his head into the room. “Private call’s over?”
The less she said about that call, the better. Tapping the phone against
her chin, she said, “Where are we having lunch? I’m starving.”
“How about Fisherman’s Wharf?”
“Kind of touristy.”
“I don’t live here anymore. I’m a tourist.”
“Bread bowls with clam chowder? All the tourists love those.”
“You read my mind.”
They took the Muni to the Wharf, and walked two blocks on streets crowded with performers and tourists and hustlers.
They ordered their food and carried their trays to a patio where they nabbed a white plastic table beneath a red umbrella and shrieking seagulls.
Christina dipped her spoon into the thick white chowder and stirred. “I’ve been craving one of these ever since I got into the city.”
“I’m surprised you don’t live here anymore.” He broke off a piece of bread from the bowl and swirled it in the soup.
“I like the slower pace of San Miguel.”
Chewing slowly, he gazed past her toward the water. “Are you seeing someone?”
“Seeing someone?” Her spoon paused in midair.
His eyes shifted to her face and locked on to hers. “Dating someone. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Oh, God, no.” Who had time to date between work and Kendall?
He raised one eyebrow and she mentally kicked herself for being so vehement.
“I just thought,” he hedged as he plunged his spoon into his bowl, “the private phone call might’ve meant a boyfriend.”
“Oh, that?” She patted her lips with a napkin. “That was my mother.”
“Oh. Didn’t mean to pry.”
She dropped her napkin back in her lap. “You’re not. In fact, she told me something strange.”
“It’s your mother. Strange doesn’t surprise me.”
“This time it wasn’t how to organize my underwear drawer, although that could be coming next.”
“What’d she say?”
Christina traced her finger around the soggy rim of her bread bowl. “She told me Vivi stopped by a few weeks ago.”
“Really? Was she looking for you?”
“Yeah, she was.” She had to come up with some good reason for Vivi’s visit other than to see her niece.
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